


Let Sleeping Giants Lie

by LoveThemWinchesters



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Being Lost, Big Brother Dean, Brothers, Gen, Ghosts, Haunting, Hiking, Hurt Sam Winchester, Post Ep 8.11, Salt And Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 20:09:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1562486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveThemWinchesters/pseuds/LoveThemWinchesters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the battle at Moondor, Sam and Dean head out to Connecticut to investigate rumors of something evil lurking in the quiet woods of Sleeping Giant State Park. (This is just a short hunt where the brothers attempt to regain their footing during the time that they are working on re-building their fractured relationship.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Sleeping Giants Lie

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: Just the other day I challenged myself to write a 5,000 word fic (which I have a very difficult time doing). It almost worked...until I started editing. LOL! But this is what I came up with.
> 
> Author's Note II: Sleeping Giant State Park is my sanity. It's where I go to disappear for a while to get my head back on straight after RL does its damndest to bring me to my knees. (It also kicks my butt and helps keep me in shape.)
> 
> The lore on 'Sleeping Giant' that is mentioned in this fic is a local legend. There is also a second story of a body (believed to be a relative of the famous P.T. Barnum) that was found in a cave, which is now called 'Dean Man's Cave', by two young boys back in 1873. I've been to this cave and it's definitely a tight fit to get into it. If you're claustrophobic and don't like spiders and bats, it's not the place to go. (To read more about these legends, you can go here: www . damnedct . com / sleeping-giant-hamden)
> 
> The trails mentioned in the fic are based on the actual trails on the mountain. And yes, they can be confusing if you've never been there before, especially if you don't have a map to refer to. Night hiking, if you're not familiar with either the trail layout or the terrain, would be extremely difficult, so kudos to Sam and Dean for heading out there like they do!

 

 

**_Mount Carmel, Connecticut…_ **

The Impala slid to a stop at one of the few side entrances to the park. The long and winding road they’d come up on was full of pot holes and Dean had sworn at each one the car had hit. There were no streetlamps and the headlights just weren’t enough to catch sight of every one.

“I swear to god, Sam, the money for a new alignment is gonna come outta your ass,” Dean mumbled tightly as he nudged the car’s nose up to the wooden barrier which marked the beginning of the trail head. (Of course Dean would blame Sam since he was the one who found this particular job.)

They were both tired after the nearly fifteen hour ride in from Michigan yesterday. The few hours’ sleep they’d had at the motel ten minutes away hadn’t done enough to ward off the exhaustion that had settled into their road-weary bones. But Sam still managed to grin when he thought about Dean giving that god-awful speech to the citizens of Moondor. And he was still finding bits of red and white paint stuck to his skin and clothes from that whole thing. Charlie…she was a class act alright.

Sam chose to ignore Dean’s mumbling and grumbling as he reached down and opened the glove compartment, pulling out a pen light as well as their cigar box full of fake I.D.s a moment later. He flicked the light on so he could see what he was doing as he sifted through the miscellany of badges until he found the ones he was looking for. If they got picked up for trespassing after dark, they would attempt to pass themselves off as Environment Conservation officers (EnCon for short) and keep their fingers crossed.

Dean, shifted into park, turned the car off, and pulled the keys from the ignition before turning to face Sam, right arm settling down to rest on the back of the seat. “So, have you decided on what this thing might be yet, elemental, demon…an Ent?”

Sam looked at Dean just as he was reaching down to pull his notes from his bag which was stashed under the seat, his brow raised. “Ent?”

“Yeah, you know, big freakin’ walking tree.” The older man smirked. “You can’t tell me that you thought those things were anything other than awesome.”

Sam grinned and shook his head. Dean might deny it, but he was a total closet geek. “Yeah. If only that was the case. But, no, it looks like our run-of-the-mill ghost.”

“So, we’re looking for a body? Sounds like a boat-load of fun,” Dean deadpanned. “We’ve got a whole freakin’ mountain sitting in front of us, Sam. D’you know how long it’ll take to find a body here? Like an eternity, dude.”

“I think I know where to look, or at least close to it.”

Dean sat up straighter. “You do?”

Sam spoke as he started leafing through his stack of papers. “The reports of people sensing an evil presence all point to one specific trail. One or two even mention seeing a man dressed in what appears to be a suit from the late nineteenth century standing up on one of the cliffs. In just the last few weeks, there've been an increase in the number of actual sightings. Something must've happened recently to stir things up. No one's been hurt yet, but the key word is 'yet'.”

The older man nodded and then his gaze shifted out the windshield as he eyed the trees. “Okay, so the usual then, salt, lighter fluid, and matches?” he asked before looking back at Sam.

Sam nodded as he quickly gave his notes one final look-over, making sure he hadn’t missed anything. Even if he knew the general area, finding a lone body out in the woods _was_ going to be hard, especially at night. That wasn’t even touching upon the fact that wild animals could have spread the bones all over the damn place.

“Okay, let’s get moving then.” Dean opened the door—it swung open with a loud groan of unoiled hinges—and stepped out, arching his back in a stretch before he stood up straight.

Sam tucked his notes back under the seat—but not before grabbing the map of the area he’d printed out earlier and tucking it into the back pocket of his jeans—and got out to join his brother. Dean was already moving around to the rear of the car and had the trunk popped open a minute later. Sam leaned down and started sifting through the cache of weapons looking for anything he deemed useful on this job; Dean unzipped their duffel bag to take stock of what was already in it. He took a few things out and added others. Several minutes later, Dean zipped the bag closed and hoisted it out of the car. Both men made sure their guns were loaded with iron rounds just in case they were needed…Dean his Colt; Sam his Taurus.

Dean closed the trunk lid and then they were off, gravel and twigs crunching and snapping under their booted feet as they walked around the wooden gate and stopped at a large sign. It was a map kiosk; a blown-up map of the entire mountain was on display under a plexiglass cover.

Sam studied it, the light from his flashlight glaring off the scratched and weather-worn surface. It was more detailed than the small map in his pocket. The area where people said things were happening was almost directly in the center of the mountain. He searched for the familiar intersection of two trails that he’d made note of earlier. It was going to be quite the hike. He hadn’t exactly told Dean how far out it was and he knew the man would ask before long.

“So where exactly are we headed?” Dean asked as if he could read Sam’s mind.

Sam pointed out the place on the map where the green trail crossed the very far end of the yellow/green crossover trail. “Somewhere in here.”

“Jesus Christ, Sam.” Dean leaned closer to the map. Sam watched as the older man’s shoulders tensed under his jacket. His brother did _not_ like the woods—never had—even when they were kids. “You expect to hike all that in the dark? Look at the elevations. And there’s no easy way to get there.”

“Are you complaining?”

Dean glanced back at Sam; his features were pinched. “No,” he denied. “Just worried your gigantor ass won’t be able to last long enough to get there. I’m not carrying you back to the car, not even if you get hurt. But then again, you should be right at home out here, being the sasquatch that you are.”

“Uh, huh,” Sam replied, choosing to disregard his brother’s blatant attempt at baiting. Instead, he looked back at the map. “So I was thinkin’ we could take the white trail out to here,” he traced the thin line of the trail on the display with his index finger, “where it meets with the green, then all we need to do is follow the green until we come up on the yellow/green crossover. The activity seems to be centered right around that point.”

The older brother tilted his head and studied the map. There were six trails branching out from where they stood: yellow, orange, green, blue, white, violet, and a horse trail. Several led in the same general direction towards the center of the mountain. Honestly, it probably didn’t make crap’s difference which one they took. He stepped back and gestured outward toward the beginning of the white trail. “Lead on, Vespucci. I’ll let you be the trail guide.”

“Sure thing, Dean.” Sam was less than enthused. _This hike is going to be so very enjoyable_ , he thought with just a bit of sarcasm.

Sam swept his flashlight along the tree line looking for the white blazes that were supposed to be on the trees marking the trail. When he spotted one, he started walking. Dean hitched the duffel bag higher up onto his shoulder and followed behind him.

The trail was more or less a steady incline. Sam breathed in deeply, the fresh air feeling good as it settled into his lungs. It was cool out, but he could already feel the prickle of sweat between his shoulder blades under his shirt. Maybe he should’ve left his jacket in the car.

They followed the path around the curve of a low hill, stepping carefully as they moved further into the dense forest. Off in the distance, there was a chorus of bugs chirping and screeching. Somewhere not too far off, frogs could be heard in one of the many marshes that were found throughout the park. A bat swooped down low, pursuing its soon-to-be dinner. Other than that, it was quiet except for their steady footfalls on the rocky terrain.

Twenty minutes into the hike, they stopped, both staring up at a wide outcropping of pale rock. Sam shone his flashlight across the ghostly surface. A white arrow was painted on it pointing in two directions: one back towards where they’d come from and one away from them, up the embankment.

“Looks like we go up,” Dean commented, finally taking the initiative to move ahead of Sam, probably more out of protectiveness against the unknown than anything else.

Sam watched as Dean shifted the weapons bag further across his back and leaned his weight forward to help steady himself against the sharp tilt of the rock and moved on. Once Dean was roughly halfway up, Sam followed.

“So what’s the plan once we get out there?” Dean called back over his shoulder as the trail leveled out again.

“The usual, I guess.”

“Sammy, you always were the brains of the operation,” Dean teased. “But it’s a plan I can work with. After we find out where the body is, you dig and I’ll cover your back.”

Sam should have expected that. He felt like he always got stuck doing the digging. He opened his mouth to protest, but his words were cut off as his toe caught on a root and he stumbled, falling backwards on his ass before he could catch himself. “Shit.”

“Still glad you decided to take a hike in the dark?”

Sam could hear the smirk in his brother’s voice. He pushed up from the ground and dusted his hands off on his jeans. “I’m fine. Let’s just keep moving.”

Minutes passed in silence as they concentrated on their footing. For the most part, the trail was well-groomed, but it wasn’t perfect. Now that they were moving into higher elevations there were more rocks to climb over and around. The blazes on the trees were pretty easy to follow, though, and they were able to keep moving at a steady pace, each of them sweeping the tree line with their flashlights looking for signs of potential danger.

After a while, they began to descend into a small valley. Sam continued to shadow Dean’s steps as the trail turned and threaded through a narrow crevice between two high walls of rock. Once through it, they had to hold on to a tree as they more or less slid down the now very steep path. Several feet further on, they came upon a cross-trail. This one was marked with red squares. The map had shown several red trails that criss-crossed over the other colored trails in north/south directions; they led to roads on either side of the mountain.

“The green should be around here somewhere,” Sam commented, flashlight moving in a half circle, its light barely cutting through the darkness. It was now almost pitch black out. He reached into his back pocket to get the map out so he could take a look to see if he could pinpoint where they were. And then he frowned. _Shit._ Sam checked his other pocket just in case. But no, the map was gone. He spun around and searched the ground with his flashlight. Nothing.

Dean must have been watching him because he called out to Sam. “Sam, what the hell, did a snake crawl up your pants?” He snickered.

“The map… It’s… Dean, I…I lost the map. It must’ve fallen out of my pocket.”

Dean said nothing. He wiped his free hand down over his face and then glanced back up the path they had just come down. “Stay here. Don’t go anywhere.”

And then Dean dropped the duffel and was heading back up the trail from where they’d just come. Sam felt like a complete idiot. It was such a simple task to hold onto the map. The only thing he could think of was that it had shifted in his pocket after his earlier fall and had worked its way out as he’d walked.

While he waited for Dean to get back, Sam pulled his phone out. Maybe he could access the map on the internet. His features took on an eerie glow when the device lit up, but Sam’s face fell almost instantly. “Crap,” he muttered. There was no reception out here, not even one bar. He turned in a slow circle, arm raised high to see if that would help. It was still a no-go. “Dammit.”

Sam jumped at the sound of loose gravel rolling down the hill behind him. He turned and saw Dean shuffling down the trail, the light from his flashlight bobbing around in front of him.

“Anything?” Sam asked, but he already knew the answer when he saw that Dean’s hands were empty.

“Nope. You must’ve lost it a ways back. Anything on that?” He gestured to Sam’s phone with a tilt of his chin.

“No reception.”

At that, Dean pulled his own phone out to see if he could get anything. “Friggin’ nature,” he mumbled under his breath as he tucked it back into his pocket and walked off to the right, scoping out the area for more markers.

“I can’t see jack shit out here,” Dean grumbled as he moved a short ways down the red trail; Sam was already moving up the white trail on the other side—it was a steep incline, sharp rocks jutting out along the width of the path. Maybe the trail they were looking for was just up around the next bend. 

“Son of a bitch!”

Sam spun around and half-slid, half-ran down the hill. “Dean!” He stopped when he caught sight of the older man.

Dean’s right foot was buried up to the ankle in mud. He eased it out, careful not to lose his boot in the suction; a wet, squelching sound followed it as he pulled it free and tried to scrape the mud off on a nearby rock. Sam couldn’t really see the other man, but he could feel the glare like a laser beam burning into him.

After Dean wiped as much mud off his boot as he could, they moved on, deciding to remain on the white trail for the time-being. The path weaved this way and that—they struggled some walking up the loose rocks; it seemed like every one shifted precariously under their weight—and then they were going down again. This time, both men slipped and fell on the marble-like gravel under their feet.

“Have I mentioned this sucks?” Dean growled unhappily as he wiped his freshly scuffed hands off.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Just keep an eye out for the green trail, man. I already know you’re not exactly the world’s greatest Boy Scout.”

“Hey!” Dean stopped and turned on Sam. “I’m always prepared, dude.”

“For what, late night hook-ups?”

The older man shrugged nonchalantly. “What can I say? That…and other things.” And then he spun on his heel and kept moving. “So what’s the story on this mountain?” he asked over his shoulder. “What’s up with the name, ‘Sleeping Giant’?”

Sam cleared his throat and caught up to his brother. He couldn’t quite walk next to the man—the trail was too narrow for that—but he could keep just a step behind him.

“Well, it’s said that Hobbonock—the giant—he contained the spirit of the souls of the dead. And basically, he was an asshole. Every time he didn’t get what he wanted, he did stuff that either destroyed the local villages, like causing floods, or he created distress among the mortals, like eating all of their food.

“According to the Quinnipiac Indians, a god—Keihtan—felt bad for the people and decided to punish Hobbonock. But since the giant was a divine creature, he couldn’t be killed. So, instead, Keihtan waited for him to fall asleep and then cast a spell on him so he would never wake up again. And then I guess the earth and trees covered the giant and he basically became this mountain.

“Where we parked, that’s supposed to be his feet. We’re probably somewhere around his shin or something right now.”

“Gods and giants… Well, let’s hope ol’ Hobbo-whatever doesn’t decide to wake up while we’re treading across his family jewels later. That would just…really not be a good thing.”

Sam barked out a laugh. “I don’t think we have to worry about that, Dean.”

They reached the bottom of the incline and Dean stopped. He let the duffel slide down from his shoulder where it fell to the ground, the sound of metal hitting metal jarring in the silent night.

“You want me to carry that for a while?” Sam offered. He knew the bag was heavy, probably at least thirty pounds. It wasn’t much in reality, but carrying it on a hike like this would make it feel like twice that.

“I got it.”  The beam from Dean’s flashlight swept left and right, its light dancing across the shadows. “Is this the green?”

Sam looked. They were at the intersection of two trails. When he saw a marker on a tree, he pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth. _Crap._ “Uh, Dean.”

“What?”

“That’s not looking green to me.” The light of his flashlight rested on an orange square painted on the side of a birch tree.

“Okay, orange. Do you remember where the orange and white crossed? Was it anywhere close to the green?”

Sam swept his hair back from his face as he tried to remember the map. White crossed orange twice, but he didn’t recall exactly where the green was in respect to them except off to the right—north—somewhere, at least on this end of the mountain.

“Um, I don’t know.”

Dean’s light was suddenly glaring in Sam’s face causing him to squint. “Seriously?” He groaned in resignation.

“I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t have time to memorize the whole map, Dean,” he bit back.

“Dammit, Sam. Maybe we should just leave while we know our way back and come back tomorrow night. God, even if we do find the green trail, do you know how to get the rest of the way there?”

“Yeah, I think so, I mean, I’m pretty sure.”

“Yeah, that sounds real convincing.” Dean looked back and forth over the trail. Without saying a word, he picked up the duffel again and started heading down the orange trail. “The green ran to the north of the white—I remember that—so going right on orange should meet up with the green somewhere,” he said by way of explanation.

It made sense. “Yeah, alright.” Sam trudged on behind Dean. Not five minutes later, another red trail crossed over the orange. This time, it was circles.

“Shit, c’mon!”

“We could turn back, you know, go back to the white and look for the green further back,” Sam offered.

“No. We’ll just stay on the orange. No sense on confusing things more than they already are.”

The orange trail was significantly easier than the white trail. It meandered through pine trees and edged along a cliff. Nothing but darkness was below them and surrounding them. Sam knew Dean was pissed; he could hear it in the way the man was breathing.

Another bend; another descent; another trail crossing.

“Yahtzee! Look, Sam.”

Sam’s gaze followed the path of Dean’s flashlight. To their left, there were wooden markers painted yellow tacked onto the trees; to their right, there were the same, but green.

“The yellow/green crossover,” Sam stated the obvious.

“Yeah, and that means green is this way.” Dean waved his flashlight towards the right. “Right?’ He looked back at Sam, waiting for confirmation.

“Yeah.”

“And you said this thing’s where this trail and the green intersect, right?”

“Supposedly.”

“Okay, let’s shag some ass, then.” And then Dean set off at a pace that actually had Sam trying to play catch-up.

The yellow/green trail wasn’t physically demanding, but whoever had put the markers up hadn’t put them in very obvious places. After several failed attempts at trying to stay on the path, Dean stopped.

“Do you see anything?”

Sam looked around. He saw nothing but trees and more trees, long spindly branches tangled overhead and all around them. The thin crescent moon in the sky gave them no extra light to see by. He shook his head ‘no’, but then realized Dean couldn’t see him even if he was looking at him. 

“No. Nothing.”

“D’you think something’s messin’ with us, purposefully getting us lost?”

“Or it could just be your bad sense of direction,” he teased, trying to draw the tension out of the air. But Sam had stilled, adrenaline kicking his heart rate up a notch.

“Screw you.” Dean’s words had no heat to them though.

Something shifted in the brush off to their left. Both hunters had their guns out and raised in the blink of an eye.

“Watch yourself, Sammy.” Slowly, Dean lowered the duffel off his shoulder and set it on the ground where he proceeded to kneel down and unzip it. A moment later, he had a sawed-off in hand, Colt tucked into the rear of his waistband again; he stuffed a few spare shells into his jacket pocket.

Trusting the younger man to cover his back, Dean headed off in the direction of the sound, flashlight held in his left hand which was crossed under his right arm holding his aim steady.

“Dean,” Sam hissed only to have Dean tell him to stay put with a hand gesture.

As his brother’s figure slowly began to disappear into the shadows, Sam caught a chill. He shivered and pulled his jacket tighter around himself. And then he saw his breath come out of his mouth in white wisps; the hair prickled at the back of his neck.

“Dean,” he said quietly at first. But the man was too far away, wherever he was at the moment, and didn’t respond. “Dean,” Sam tried again, just a little bit louder. Still no answer.

Slowly, Sam turned. He eyes widened at the sight in front of him. And then his world went dark.

 

Sam awoke to the sound of water dripping somewhere. His head pulsed with a deep-seated ache and he groaned as he came to, opening his eyes slowly. His first thought was that he’d been blinded and he panicked, sitting up too fast and swallowing back the bile surging up in the back of his throat. He took a few breaths to calm himself. Only then did he come to his senses and realize he hadn’t been blinded. There was just the total absence of light here.

“Dean?”

His voice echoed off of unseen walls, pounding back into his ears.

“Dean!”

_Oh, god. Where am I?_

Sam cautiously stood up, only to wince when his left ankle tried to give out under him. “Damn.” He grit his teeth and held himself upright, bearing the pain; it took a moment to gain his balance. Between the headache, twisted ankle, and lack of sight, he found the once simple task difficult to do. The only thing to be grateful for was the fact that he wasn’t bound. But that could only mean one thing: the spirit was sure he couldn’t get away. He stretched his arms out in front of him and felt around. His hands met nothing but thin air. And then he reached up over his head. The very tips of his fingers came in contact with the rough, rocky surface of the ceiling.

“No.” He was underground. No wonder it was so dark. Sam could almost _feel_ the cavernous quality of the room and he shivered. “Dean!” he yelled again, panic rising in him once more. He limped blindly into the swell of darkness that surrounded him, searching. There _had_ to be a way out if there was a way in.

Biting back a grimace of pain with every other step, he moved forward, testing the size of the room and then his heart was in his throat when his next step found no purchase beneath it. Sam’s arms windmilled as he threw himself backwards before he fell into the hole (?) that was in front of him. He didn’t need to be any further underground than he already was. And who knew how far down that hole actually went?

Sam stepped away from the void in front of him back to where he knew it was safer. He’d lost his flashlight more than likely when he’d been taken down. God, what Dean must be going through right now, wondering where he was. That was if he wasn’t… Yeah, Sam wasn’t going to go there. Dean was alive…had to be. The man had survived much worse than a rabid spirit. And surely he would have noticed that Sam had gone missing by now. Sam wondered briefly at how long he’d been unconscious.

“Dean!” he tried again, but the effort was fruitless. Dean was outside, above the ground. Sam wasn’t.

He leaned back up against the wall and slid down until he was sitting. Something was digging into his leg. His phone. His phone! He could use it as a flashlight.

Trembling fingers dug down into his front pocket and Sam pulled the device out. He turned it on and set it to flashlight mode. The space in front of him lit up in the too-bright light and he had to blink his eyes to adjust to it.

Yeah, definitely a cave. And definitely a big hole in the floor. Sam brought the phone around so he could look off to his left and then to his right. He jumped in surprise when he came face to face with a body less than two feet away from him. It was slumped over onto itself, clothing thread-bare with age, skin shrunken tight against its bones.

Was this who was haunting the park? Or was he just another victim like Sam? There was no way for Sam to know which, but either way, there was nothing he could really do about it. He didn’t even have a pack of matches on him let alone salt and lighter fluid. Plus, if he lit the guy up, he’d probably suffocate himself and be the next set of bones down here.

Down here. The words reverberated in his head.

_Sam, look up you moron!_

Sam directed the light from his phone up to the ceiling. He stood as quickly as he dared and began to move around the small cavern as best as his ankle would allow. In the far corner, he noted that the shadow was a bit darker than that of the rest of the ceiling.

_Is that a hole, a way out?_

He carefully edged his way around the chasm in front of him—breath hitching as his ankle suddenly rolled under his weight—and moved beneath what was definitely an opening in the ceiling. Its diameter couldn’t be much wider than Sam himself from what he could see; he was almost glad he’d been out when the spirit had gotten him through that. There was no light from up there, but Sam could feel the fresh air, smell its crisp scent.

“Dean!”

The hole was a good eight or so feet above Sam. He stared up at it in weary defeat. There was no way out, nothing he could do. Nothing but wait.

“Dean! Goddammit, can you hear me?” His words continued to echo back at him; he could hear the fear in his own voice as it resounded through the air.

“Sam? Sammy!”

Sam’s ears perked up when he heard the distant call of his name.

“Dean! Over here!”

“Sam?” Dean’s voice was getting closer. Sam could hear the noise of Dean’s boots scuffing over rocky terrain.

“Down here, Dean!” Sam bent down and picked up a stone from the floor. He threw it out of the hole above him in hopes that Dean would see or hear where it was coming from.

And then Dean was there, flashlight shining down into the hole. Sam’s pupils contracted from the glaring light and he instinctively covered his eyes with his forearm.

“Sammy! Hey, you okay? What the hell? I told you to stay put.” The older man swept the room with the beam of his flashlight then, taking in Sam’s predicament. “How the hell’d you find this hole, dude? It’s not even near the trail. You should see what I had to do just to get up here.”

Sam was about to reply when Dean suddenly yelled out and then the man’s feet were scraping over the edge of the hole above him.

“Dean!”

“Hold that thought, Sam!”

Sam jumped at the sound of Dean’s shotgun going off.

“Dean, the body’s down here! Throw the bag down!”

“What?”

There was another hard impact, Dean’s body against the rock wall. A pained grunt. “Goddamn son of a bitch!”

“Dean, give me the damn bag!”

Another shotgun blast rang out. A few too long moments of silence passed and then the bag was kicked down to Sam.

Sam gave up on trying to walk. Instead, he crawled back towards the body, dragging the duffel with him. He scrabbled through its contents in haste, gathering up what he needed to put an end to this nightmare. His hands were shaking and his head was pounding from what he was now convinced was definitely a concussion. Nausea tightened his stomach, but he had to keep moving. He could deal with his issues later.

There was another enraged shout from up above. More dirt and debris kicked down from the hole. Sam was sure that the spirit was trying to dump Dean down into the cave with him. If that happened, they were utterly screwed.

Sam tried to remain focused on what he was doing and moved as fast as he could. Unsteady fingers snapped the cap off the lighter fluid. He doused the corpse and then took the salt container out from where he was holding it under his left arm and poured a generous amount over the body. It took him another minute to find a book of matches in the side pocket of the bag, but once he did, he got them lit as quickly as possible. Just as he was tossing them onto the body, he heard Dean yell again. His brother was getting his ass kicked up there.

Sam crossed his fingers that the remains in front of him belonged to the spirit that was currently wreaking havoc on Dean.

A second later, his question was answered when a shrill scream pierced the air.

Smoke filled the room all too swiftly—just like he knew it would—and Sam soon found himself running out of clean air to breathe. He got down close to the floor, but he found no respite there. “Dea-!” A cough cut off his brother’s name as his lungs began to burn from the smoke. His throat began to constrict on him and he started to gasp. It was all happening so suddenly. Spots formed in front of his eyes and Sam slumped to the floor, still coughing. The last thing on his mind was Dean. He’d never see his brother again.

He may or may not have heard Dean telling him to hang on.

The firelight cast an orange glow over his body as he fell into oblivion.

 

“Sammy? Hey, Sam, c’mon, you gotta wake up, man.”

Sam felt something gently tapping the side of his cheek as he hovered on the edge of consciousness. He was lying on something other than rock. When he opened his eyes, Sam found himself half-cradled in Dean’s lap.

“Dean?”

A soft laugh filled Sam’s ears. “Welcome back to the world of the living. Y’okay? That was a lot of smoke, kiddo.” His brother’s voice sounded hoarse. In Sam’s current state, he couldn’t decipher whether it was from the lingering smoke or something more.

“Yeah…I think. Just give me a second.” He tried to clear his throat which only resulted in a fit of coughing. “What happened?” Sam finally asked when he was able to catch a breath.

“You fried that son of a bitch’s ass, that’s what. That was one pissed off and cranky ghost if you ask me.” Sam could just see Dean’s grin in the circle of light emanating from the flashlight sitting nearby. “I’m guessin’ it figured out why we were here and it decided to take us down first. It almost did.” The last sentence was said so quietly that Sam almost didn’t hear it.

Sam coughed again and Dean pushed a bottle of water into his hand. He took a long pull from it; it was a balm to his parched and burnt throat. Mid-swig, he realized where they were. He sat up with a slight groan and pulled away from Dean, eyes going wide.

“Dean, you came down? How’re we gonna get outta here?”

“Rope, Sammy. There was a rope in the bag.” Dean flashed Sam a brilliant smile. “I’m a Boy Scout, remember? I’m prepared for anything.”

“Yeah, uh, sure, Dean.” And then Sam laughed. Dean tried to hold back, but the corner of his mouth twitched and then he joined in a moment later.

The fact that a low groan accompanied Dean’s laugh didn’t escape Sam’s notice.

 

It was far from easy getting back up out of that cave, but they made it. If either of them had been any less physically fit, they might not have made it out at all. Even so, Dean had a difficult time. He wasn’t able to hide the fact that he’d been hurt during his confrontation with the spirit. From the way he was holding his side, Sam assumed the man had either bruised or broken a rib (or ribs)—as usual, the older Winchester refused to talk about it. Sam let it go for now—there was nothing he could do for his brother out in the middle of the woods anyway—but he sure as hell was going to take a look when they got back to their room later.

It was slow going getting back to the car. Aside from Sam’s ankle, he was seeing double of everything. The cliff just outside the cave was rather unforgiving to their various injuries. Dean went down first, insisting that he’d catch Sam if he slipped. Sam had said nothing, but he knew if he fell, Dean wasn’t going to catch him; they’d both go down together. Once they reached the bottom, they had to make their way across a talus pile which would have been hard to navigate on the best of days. It would have been too easy to wrench another ankle or break a leg.

Yeah, fun.

It had taken just shy of an hour and a half—even after getting lost—for the hunters to make it from the car to the green trail. It took them two and a half to get back. Sam tried as hard as he could to ignore the pain in his ankle, but the joint refused to work with him.

Sam also had an egg on the back of his head—it felt like it was the size of a baseball, but in reality, it was more in the realm of golf ball-sized. He had heard Dean mumble something about not letting him sleep tonight due to a concussion. That was going to suck. They’d have to hit a coffee shop on the way back to the motel so Sam could overdose on caffeine. If he didn’t, there was no way he was going to make it through the next hour, let alone the rest of the night.

“How long was I missing?” Sam asked as he sank back into the soft leather seat of the car. It was still dark out, but it felt like a lot more time had passed than he could account for.

Dean’s breath was unsteady, pained, as he leaned up against the car. Sam couldn’t help but wince as he watched his brother continue to try to hide the fact that he was hurting.

“You were gone for almost three hours. I just… I heard you yell, then… I couldn’t find you, Sam.” Dean’s voice cracked ever so slightly before he cleared his throat, attempting to cover the emotion.

Sam only nodded, letting his brother know that he understood. Even after all the hell they’d been through over the last too many years, they were still brothers, still cared for one another. He swallowed back the guilt he felt trying to rear its ugly head. Sam wasn’t going to deny things had been pretty screwed up for the last six months. But even so, they each knew they wouldn’t be able to live without the other no matter how messed up things got. They could work their way through this.

“I’m okay. _We’re_ okay.” There was more meaning to those words than just what was on the surface.

“Damn straight we’ll be okay.” The older man’s lips curled into a genuine smile as he pushed away from the car. “Now how’s about we get outta here and grab ourselves a couple of coffees, wash some of this grime off, and kick back with a movie or two. There was a video store across the street from the motel. We could even pick up a Disney flick if you want, princess.” His smile turned into a devilish smirk.

“Dean…god. Can you just get in and drive…please?” Sam just wanted to get back to the room. He was exhausted, not to mention sore…and maybe slightly dizzy. For just a brief moment, he had to close his eyes to fight the sickening feeling that was starting to overwhelm him.

The smile fell from Dean’s face instantly. “Shit, Sam.” He crouched down and placed a hand on Sam’s knee; his eyes were full of concern. “Is your headache-?”

Sam smiled to himself. Somehow, his overprotective big brother was still in there...after Hell, Heaven, and Purgatory. “No, Dean. Really, I’m fine. Nothing a little aspirin won’t fix,” he said, trying to reassure the older man. But even he could hear his words were slightly slurred as he spoke them.

There was the expected huff of exasperation from Dean. “I think it’s gonna take a little more than that to fix you up, dude.”

Sam rolled his eyes, but he knew his brother was right. “Yeah, maybe,” he conceded. Dean stood back up then, but before he could close the door, Sam reached out a hand, stopping him. “And don’t think I’m not plannin’ on lookin’ at those ribs when we get back to the room just because I’m seein’ two of you.”

“Oh.” Dean glanced down at himself almost as if he’d forgotten he was injured. “Yeah. Right.”

Dean closed the passenger door then and disappeared around the back of the car. He slipped in behind the wheel a moment later and started the engine. It came to life with a low, rumbling growl. And then they were rolling down the road leaving the mountain behind.

Sam sighed as he stretched out in the seat to get comfortable and closed his tired eyes.

They hadn’t exactly come out unscathed, but they would both live to see another sunrise. It was the best either of them could hope for these days. Because who knew what was in store for them tomorrow? Whatever it was, they’d deal with it…they always did. 

**_The End_ **

**Author's Note:**

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